#lanatext

There is sorrow in knowing that my form will never grow beyond what is already here, but in the same breath, I can’t quantify the joy I feel when I’m able to surrender to the feelings; the urges; the immense joy of letting go from this mere human cage.

Perhaps ‘Mistress’ or ‘Good Girl’ depending on the day, but we’ll stick with Lana for now.

She/they, switch werewolf succubus, incredibly pansexual. I live to fuck and be fucked. My brain does not care what your gender or genitals are. I’m here to have fun and that’s all I really care about.

I use this blog to express my sexuality, to document how my sexuality and my identity interact, and to present similar sentiments from others.

Original posts & additive reblogs are tagged #lanatext for easy filtering.

DNI if you’re a minor, please. TERFs, transmeds, and any other shitheads, you already know you’re not welcome here. Everyone else: be kind and reasonable.

Fuck @photomatt 🚗🔨⚒️💥

I don't know when it started fighting against me again, like it did before I was truly born. I don't know when my body started to slip into dis-congruent horror again.

I want to feel like I did when I was made into a sexual being, but something has tarnished that. I can't remove the stains of that horror without multiple years of demeaning work. How am I supposed to have the confidence I'm expected to have in my identity when it feels like I'm chasing something I'm not allowed to have?

I miss feeling one with my body. I miss when my muscles and skin had no gaps between them; when my bones were quieted and content. I miss when I wasn't afraid of my identity as a queer woman. I miss arousal not feeling like dancing around a bear trap.